Samples of Life. 1. Udumban

On seeing udumban, I always remembered the embalmed body of Pharaoh. Udumban was tall, bare footed, black and in his seventies. His apparel consisted of crossed kallimundu and a worn-out black T shirt. He used to carry two or three turtles hanging on a coconut leaf yarn. He was nicknamed after his hobby or livelihood, that was catching the monitor lizards, or better udumbu in Malayalam. He used to snipe in the pathways of our village and entrapped the clever monitor lizards as he was cleverer than them.

The villagers were very particular on giving anyone a nickname, either by his work, etymology, facial expression or mannerism .(As Koyas were many, they gave them identification names as business Koya, cement Koya, pattikkoya,(Koya the bitch)kanhikkoya(Koya the rice soup- he used to fetch rice soup for the teachers of Madrassa)and Karate Koya. Any way Eylandy was nicknamed as Udumban.

Udumban walked without any movements. One could see him coming as if he was standing still on a conveyer belt. He spoke without moving his lips. We could not see any expressions or movements on his face while speaking. As soon as our battalion of school children passed by him, he babbled a shower of obscene words on us. For us, meeting Udumban on his way, while back home after our usual school hours was a feast of forbidden language. On hearing his words our ears became sour. We expressed our mock anger towards him even though we enjoyed all his ‘pearls’ as gospels. Each one of us conveyed the words to those who were not present. Up on meeting our elders we declared our ‘innocent childrenship’ by depicting Udumban as ‘ugly’ and respected him in disguise.

In the presence of my mother, I advised Ichu , my sister, to avoid Udumban on the way (like me, she too was an ardent fan of Udumban and she too shared what is heard from him with me always. She was just like a Pomeranian dog, lovely but aggressive to strangers ).
“ Ichooooo, take care tto. .., don’t speak to him at all”. To get Ummachi’s appreciation, I told her.
Ummachi, our mother, knew all our business and she too insisted her to obey her ithatha, her elder sister, that was me.
“Ummachheee, obey her!!!!!!, ok ok, I will always.” She replied with her face reflected a tender coconut of hidden indignation.

We were like king and his chief minister in the classic Indian stories. Sometimes she became king and sometimes me. She used to run in haste to inform and show me the mating dogs during the month of Kanni, the second month of Malayalam calendar.
“What is going on there eehh?, absorbing the situation Ummachi would shout.
“Ummachee, both of us are going to pluck the ripen papaya, a crow will eat it”. As she knew each one of us from the movements of our first beats within her womb, Ummachi kept silence and acted like believing what we said and watched our movements. Back home she casually would ask us ‘‘all dogs left? “Which dogs Ummachi? Could you see any dogs Ithatha?” like a perfect example of an exclamatory sentence, Ichu will reply with exact expressions.

No one ever had seen Udumban cooking, eating, etc. No one ever had seen his house and we were unaware of his family and whereabouts.We were not bothered about that too. He was the village children’s private hero.
One day Ichu told me that she saw Udumban sitting in the varanda of the Aalikka’s shop. Aalikka’s shop was nearby our home. I scanned the atmosphere and made it sure that Ummachi was not noticing us. Pretending to buy candies, we together rushed to Aalikka’s shop.
Udumban didn’t notice us. He was busy with his turtles.

AAAleekkaaa, do you have peanut candies here?

In order to catch his attention, Ichu asked aloud. As elders are present Udumban kept mum.

Aamana vikkunno? Do you sell the turtles? She asked. He didn’t notice it too. We were angry and disappointed of the indifferent attitude of our hero. That day we didn’t memorize any words from him and could not pass it to our friends.
Udumban disappeared from our village as if he was dissolving himself in the essence of our village.
Some of us saw him and some did not.
Some of us remembered him and some did not.
With us our friends too evaporated out from our village. All girls were compelled to live in the smoky kitchens of their husband’s homes.
Some lucky were married to their favourite boys of nearby villages.
Some boys ran to other districts as bakery employees.
Many to the Middle East,Rani burning herself to eternity,Naseema to Ratnagiri, Baiju to UK, Danesh to Sweden, and Pushpakaran to Nigeria.
All, went out, leaving their minds on the riverside of Atholy.
We are as eager as in our childhood to watch the train passing. To watch the ringing of neck bell of an elephant fortelling the coming of the elephant from distance. We still expect Udumban coming from the distant black roads on his imaginary conveyor belt with his turtles and the mines of obscenity, even though we are familiar with everything he told. As the black elephant, as the distant aeroplane hiding its big belly….

Udumban was an emblem. He provided us with what the elders dare not. Though his photo cannot be seen anywhere on the walls our village, or the blogs with the name of our village, we the children of the past decade, have a statue of him set up in the meadow of our minds.